Dirty Dancing
by TickleMeMellow
Summary: That was the summer of 1963, when not all cars had seat belts and they taught you ballroom dance in gym class. That was the summer they went to McKinley's family resort. Dirty Dancing rehash w/ Glee casting. Rating may change to M later.
1. Chapter 1

_That was the summer of 1963, when cigarettes didn't give you cancer and they taught you ballroom dance in gym class. That was before the Beatles came, before the personal computer, when I couldn't wait to join the Peace Corps, and I thought that I would never be as happy as my parents. _

_That was the summer that we went to McKinley's Family Resort._

Blaine Anderson gazed out the window of the family Chevrolet. He leaned forward and tapped his father on the arm. "I'm really glad that we can spend this time as a family, Dad." He said.

The Anderson parents- James and Lillian- smiled too. James responded "We're glad that we can do this too, son. I hope you're ready for the horse-shoe show down!"

"I sure am, Dad. Maybe this year you and Mom will beat Santany and I!"

Santana Anderson rolled her eyes and made a gagging gesture. "Are we there yet? I hope the waiters this year are more attractive than the ones last year."

. . .

They pulled up to the main building amidst a flurry of activity. Art easels were set up on the lawn, other groups were playing croquet, and a man was yelling into a megaphone advertising more family events in other areas of the resort.

They got out of the car and a skinny, terrifying blonde woman rushed over to them with a younger blonde girl in tow. "Jim! Doc! Hey, buddy, I'm so glad you could make it!.I've been trying to get you up here for years. "

James Anderson turned and smiled. He, too, had the characteristic Anderson beaming smile. He looked like an older version of his son: more wrinkles, more grey in his shorn curly hair, a little bit extra around the midsection, and maybe a little bit shorter. "Sue! I'm glad I could make it. How's the blood pressure?"

While the older folk made inane conversation, Brittany openly stared at Blaine's sister. Santana met her stare harshly, almost daring her to do something. Brittany grinned and looked down, giving in and admitting that she was looking.

"Brittany, get their bags!" Sue ordered. Brittany rushed to obey. Santana smiled in appreciation and followed Brittany with her eyes, admitting that she noticed her too.

Blaine leapt over to help carry bags. "You should get a job here, too!" Brittany offered brightly. Blaine laughed.

. . .

Later that night, Blaine left his parents playing card games so he could spend some time looking around. He pulled his sweater more tightly around his body and hopped from stone to stone on the path, enjoying the simple pleasure of the evening.

He poked his head into a closet and found where they kept all the tennis rackets. The balcony by the main dining room had a beautiful view that he took advantage of. From around the corner he heard Sue's distinctive voice. He peeked around a door to investigate. She was giving instructions to the waiters and waitresses. "Ladies and Gentlemen, you know why I hired you this summer. You are all impressive, so please act like it. Don't spill on the guests, be friendly. Show them a good time. Especially the sons and daughters. You get my drift, yeah? ALL of them; even the dogs."

"You got that guys?" A soft, biting voice cut through the crowd. A man with a jacket thrown over his shoulder sauntered into the room, Brittany followed. Blaine's chin lifted as he looked the newcomer over. Hair peaked with gel, sparkling blue-green eyes and a chiseled jaw drew his attention. Large, delicate hands held onto his coat. Impossibly tight black jeans left little to the imagination. In fact, they very clearly defined the hottest ass that Blaine had ever seen.

"Wait." Sue commanded, and the man halted his strut. "You have your own instructions, Hummel. Teach them the Mambo, the Cha-Cha, whatever they pay for. That's it. Nothing extra, no conversations. Don't get too close to anybody. I don't want to have a problem with you, but if I get a complaint I will follow through. Got it?"

The man stared down at the floor, listening but clearly not chastened. Rebellion showed clear through his face, but he nodded in understanding nonetheless.

"Think you can handle that, Hummel?" A beefy waiter sneered while arranging a table. The man's eyes flashed and he 'accidentally' bumped into the table, sending silverware and plates to the floor.

"Whoops. Sorry Karofsky. Think you can.. handle.. that?" He flared for a second and walked away. Karofsky watched him go with an face that Blaine couldn't read.

He took his thoughts and headed back to his cabin to dress for dinner.

. . .

Sue herself seated them.

"David, this is Dr. and Mrs. Anderson, their son Blaine and their daughter Santana. This is your waiter, David Karofsky. Yale medical school. These people are my special guests, give them anything they want." David bowed.

Conversation was a little forced at the dinner table. Blaine was still thinking about what he had seen earlier. Santana was having fun flirting with Karofsky, though Blaine suspected that it was all an act.

James and his wife traded jokes and smiles, enjoying each other's presence. Blaine knew that it must be hard on them, with his father's medical career being so demanding. Once again he wondered to himself if he would ever find 'the one' like his parents did, and his thoughts turned back to the man from earlier.

He had known for a while that he was interested in guys. It was taboo, though; it wasn't allowed. In school they had been shown PSAs about the dangers of homosexuality and homosexual men. The movies portrayed it like it was an illness that needed to be cured, that all homosexuals preyed on young boys. He'd never felt like a monster, and it was terrible being told he was one.

He sighed. Karofsky was back to clear the table. Sue towed a young girl behind her. "I'd like you all to meet my niece Rachel. She attends the Julliard School for singing performance and music business."

"Oh, Blaine is starting Brown in the fall."

"That's nice. And what are you going to do, miss?"

"Oh, She's going to rule it." Blaine cracked. Santana glared at him.

Rachel smiled at him eagerly. He returned the sentiment wanly. The whole group left the dining room to join the other guests on the dance floor. Rachel insisted on dancing with Blaine, and his parents literally pushed him towards her. He sighed once more and brought her to dance.

"I am so excited to graduate next year!" She started. "I am going to be a famous broadway actress, you see. I will do that for 20 years or so, and then I will become a famous Broadway producer! I have some fantastic ideas. I just know that I'm meant to-" Blaine rocked with her on the dance floor, detaching himself from her relentless stream of words.

He looked desperately towards his parents, but they just smiled and encouraged him silently.

Suddenly some much more exciting music began, the trumpets blaring. Blaine was snapped back to reality with Rachel screeching exultantly "I love the Mambo!"

Blaine dealt with it until he saw the dancers. It was the beautiful man from earlier and a very pretty blonde girl. Her charming girl-next-door looks were belied by the ferocity of her dancing. "Who are they?" He asked Rachel.

"Oh, them? They're the dance instructors. I don't know what they're doing, dancing with each other. That's not how you sell lessons." Blaine watched them appreciatively, completely inattentive to his partner at this point.

The two of them were beautiful together, and they clearly enjoyed dancing with each other. His smile was wide, and she giggled in his arms. Blaine's heart fell a little. In what alternate universe did he ever have a shot?

Shee threw threw her leg up over his shoulder. He raised his arm up and behind her, paralleling her leg. She bent back, almost touching the floor with her head. He stepped backwards, supporting her as she held herself before him. It was the most beautiful thing that Blaine had ever seen.

Sue intercepted them and told them to knock it off and dance with the guests already. They hurried to do so.

. . .

Later that night, Blaine found himself exploring again. He wandered past the 'Staff Quarters No Guests Please' sign to follow some music he thought he heard.

He spotted Brittany struggling to carry some watermelons and he ran over. "Hey!" He yelled. "Need some help?"

"Sure, thanks." She looked at him nervously, as though she didn't know what to do. They walked a few feet and she stopped again. "I'm not sure..." She thought for a moment. "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to bring you here. Maybe you should go back."

"But then who would carry this watermelon? I'm certified, you know." He joked.

"Oh! Well in that case." She continued on her way and Blaine laughed. He decided that he liked Brittany; she had a sense of humor.

They walked in on the most bold display of sexual abandon that he had ever witnessed. There were young people everywhere rocking and swaying to the music. He had never seen _anything_ like this before in his life. He followed Brittany dumbly, moving past couples who were lost in each other.

"Where did they learn to do that?" He asked.

"At home." She replied. "In their basements. Haven't you ever danced?"

"Apparently not," he mused.

"Wanna try?" She asked. He shook his head. He had to admit, though, it did look like a lot of fun.

Cheers erupted as two more people entered the fray. Kurt grabbed a proffered bottle and took a long swig. Immediately he started moving his body to the beat and pulled Quinn to him. She laughed again and they danced, outshining everybody.

"That's my cousin, Kurt Hummel" Brittany said. "He got me this job."

"They look great together." Blaine stated morosely.

Brittany laughed. "Yeah, they'd've made a great couple."

"You mean they're not?" Blaine was shocked.

She shook her head, looking nervous again. "No, not since Kurt- he's.. different. He doesn't.. He's.." She thought for a moment. "He's special."

Blaine hoped that she meant what he thought she did. He hoped she meant that Kurt was gay too. From the way he went around from person to person invading personal space and causing blushes, he seemed to be indiscriminate when it came to flirting. It seemed that he did that with anybody.

For a second amidst the flirting and gyrating Blaine thought that Kurt spotted him ogling, so he looked away quickly. He figured he was safe after a few seconds and went back to staring brazenly again. The song ended and everybody cheered, getting ready for the next one to start.

It did with lots of drums and there was more excitement. Blaine had never been anywhere like this- the smell of sweat and sex hung thick in the air, the heat from all of the bodies, the music coursing through his veins. Tonight was special.

Kurt made his way over to his cousin, dancing with men and women on the way over. "What's _he_ doing here?" He asked. Blaine blushed furiously. It was the first time that he'd been addressed by Kurt, albeit indirectly.

"He came with me." Brittany covered.

"I carried a watermelon." Blaine said, flashing his patented brilliant Anderson smile. Kurt didn't seem amused. He rolled his eyes and went back to dancing.

Blaine tried to sink into the floor. "I carried a watermelon? Good job, Blaine, really great."

Brittany patted his arm sympathetically, sensing intuitively that there was something 'special' about Blaine too.

When Kurt danced near them again, she pushed Blaine _hard _and he tumbled into Kurt. Kurt pushed him off harshly. "What's your problem, man? Do you want to dance with me or something?" It was a throwaway comment, but Blaine found himself unwittingly nodding.

He stopped almost immediately, but Kurt saw it and stopped moving. Blaine cursed under his breath, the first time he had ever done that. Kurt stepped toward him. "What? You want me to teach you?"

Blaine didn't look up. Kurt took his wrist and led him to a darker area, keeping them shrouded in the noise and the haze. He was brazen, but he wasn't stupid.

Kurt scrunched Blaine down by the shoulders and started moving his hips obscenely. Blaine just stared. A smile tugged at the corners of Kurt's lips, the first Blaine had seen. "Copy me." That kickstarted Blaine into action and he did, trying to move his hips the same way.

Kurt struggled not to laugh at how silly the boy looked, trying to move like he felt the beat but obviously missing the mark. Kurt wasn't sure what the boy's intentions were, but he figured that everybody should have a chance to learn how to dance.

He was surprised at how quickly Blaine did catch on. Kurt decided to be bold and pulled Blaine in. He aligned their hips and they started moving together. Kurt had to bite back a groan, not wanting to hint at how much he was enjoying this. It wasn't often that he got to dance with other men. And judging from what he felt in their dancing, other _gay_ men.

He knew to protect himself, he'd been burned too many times. But still, he was just teaching the kid how to dance, right? He brought the boy's arms up around his neck and looked deeply into his dark eyes. He dropped and swung him around, and did it again. It all clicked into place.

He led the other boy's now pliant body into some hot moves. Didn't go too far, though, this was a one time thing. As the song came to a close he quickly removed his arms and faded into the crowd, leaving Blaine dancing against thin air.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine sat at an easel on the lawn, painting the lake. His tumbling curls were barely restrained by the gel he used, curling all the harder in the muggy summer air. He listened distantly to the gossip flying between the lonely housewives left by their card-playing husbands. He felt a sharp poke on his shoulder and started, smudging the line of the beach that he was painting. He grimaced and turned to see his sister Santana with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. He opened his mouth to say hi, but she beat him to it. "Blaine, I need you to tell Mom and Dad that I have a headache tonight.""Why?" He asked."Because David and I are going to go admire the view at the golf course tonight, and they don't need to know that."Blaine was surprised. "Really? David?" Blaine was surprised that Santana had intentions towards that ham-handed brute. And, admittedly, a little surprised that she was going for a guy at all. He'd caught her in the garage with her hand up the neighbor's daughter's shirt just last glared at him. "What of it, Blaine? Why don't you just go find another downtrodden orphan to champion? He looked down, not knowing how to respond. "Fine. I'll tell them. Have a good time.""I will." Santana left, heading for the boathouse. Quinn walked through the group of easels, offering people more paint if they needed it. Blaine watched her enviously. She seemed so cool and world-weary. The way she danced was so arresting- he wanted to have her ability to make people stop and pay attention to him. He felt a person stride past him. He closed his eyes, getting a whiff of soap, sweat, and cedar. It was Kurt. He watched Kurt walk up to Quinn. He must have asked her a question because she shook her head and looked a little upset. He stroked her arm for a second, kissed her cheek, and walked quickly back up the lawn. Blaine was staring at Kurt when he reached for his paintbrush. He hand knocked his water glass over and he lunged to grab it before it broke. He did catch it, in a neat underhanded move, but then he was on his hands and knees on the ground in front of Kurt. A slender hand came into view, and Blaine could smell cedar and soap again. He took the hand, looking up to see shining green eyes. Kurt did not meet his gaze, though, looking off to the left instead. His hands did not linger any longer than was strictly necessary either. But oh, those hands. Milky white fingers, slender but strong; calluses on the palm a result of hard labor. Warm. Kurt strode away, leaving Blaine frozen behind smiled at Quinn when she came to offer him more paint. "I love the way you dance." He said, beaming at her. She smiled unenthusiastically back. "No, I mean it! You're really good. How did you learn?"She looked down at her paints tiredly. "My Dad kicked me out when I was 16. I had to learn something. Real fast.""I envy you," Blaine blurted out, realizing how stupid that sounded. From the look on her face Quinn thought that it was stupid too. Blaine sighed and looked down. Today was not his most dapper of days.. . .Night came quickly enough, and with it relief from the muggy heat of the day. Blaine stood in the gazebo, a soft cool breeze caressing him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sights and smells. He was hyper aware of Kurt dancing with one of the housewives off to his left. She cooed at him, falling over his outstretched arms and trailing her hands in barely decent areas. Blaine growled under his breath, but was powerless to do anything about it. "Doc! Not dancing?" Sue came over, smiling at Blaine's father. "Not yet Sue," Lily replied "we're waiting for a waltz." Sue beckoned Rachel over, who had just been chastising Kurt about something. Rachel smiled a huge smile and grabbed Blaine's hand, bouncing. "Let's take a walk, Blainey Blaine!" He looked back at his parents for help, but they only smiled and urged him forward. Rachel and Blaine stood on a balcony overlooking the lake. She trailed her hands through his curly hair. "I love to watch your hair in the breeze," she said. Blaine fought to not roll his eyes. Wouldn't she get the hint that he wasn't behaving affectionately back? "Maybe my parents are looking for me" he said, hinting again."Not if you're with me, Blaine." She responded coyly "Don't you know I'm the catch of the town? Just last week I stole a guy from the lifeguard.""Karofsky!" It was Santana. They heard movement behind one of the trees, and David Karofsky was pushing his way through the trees with Santana following behind. "Where are you going?" She asked, sounding as vulnerable as Blaine had ever heard her."Why don't you just run back to your Mommy and Daddy, little girl." David yelled back, not slowing down for her. She tripped and stumbled trying to keep up with him. Blaine felt very sad, but could do nothing about it. Rachel tugged on his cardigan. "I'm sorry that happened, Blaine. I'm sorry you had to see that. I guess sometimes you have to see things that you don't want to see." She said it so earnestly, as though Blaine had never encountered anything so horrible. He turned his face away, unable to look her straight in the eye for fear of screaming."Hey," She asked, stroking his sweater in a manner that she must have thought was soothing. "Are you hungry?" He shrugged and she led him away, leaving the glittering gazebo brought him to the main kitchen to get some ice cream. He had nothing in particular against ice cream, but wished that Rachel were not involved. She nattered on about something and he looked around. There was a shuffling noise, like a mouse. He looked around a cabinet and saw Quinn on the floor crying. Her usually immaculate makeup was smudged and her hair was in complete disarray. He knew that he couldn't let Rachel find her. "Rachel- I really want to dance all of a sudden." He led her away.. . .He ran to find Brittany at the Gazebo. "Get Kurt- Quinn needs him!" He whispered furiously. Brittany cut into Kurt's dance with yet another housewife and the three of them walked briskly to the kitchen."What's he doing here?" Kurt asked Brittany, nodding towards Blaine as they walked. "In case Rachel comes back?"Kurt smiled a little. "Good thinking, Brit."Blaine hurried to keep up with them, their legs so much longer than his. "What's wrong? Why is Quinn crying?"Kurt ignored him completely. "She's knocked up," Brittany whispered."Brittany!" Kurt chastised in aggravated tones, "That's none of his business."Blaine stopped walking for a second, stunned. So Kurt was straight. "What's he going to do about it?" She asked stopped dead in his tracks. "What's he gonna do? Oh, so it's mine, right?" He snorted and looked away. Blaine noticed how nice Kurt looked in the tuxedo he was wearing, and cursed himself for that. "Of course you'd think it was mine."Blaine swallowed. "I thought.." "No. You didn't. Go home, Blaine." Kurt turned away and kept going. Brittany and Blaine exchanged a glance and followed after 's mind was racing. He knew that Quinn was knocked up, but why did she have to cry where somebody might find her? Some nosy kid like Rachel or Blaine. He shook his head at the thought of meek, innocent Blaine being involved with anything as real as Quinn losing her job. He knew that everybody would blame him for Quinn's pregnancy, knew that he could lose his job if anybody found out. Of course nobody would believe that it had been Karofsky- why would they? Karofsky would head off to medical school in the fall, leaving the real people to pick up the saw Quinn lying down and rushed to her side. He gathered her too-skinny body in his arms and held her as she sobbed. "It's alright," He murmured, "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you." He stroked her hair and held watched from the background, brown eyes wide with concern and confusion. If Kurt wasn't the father, who was? And maybe Kurt was gay? It was nice that Quinn had somebody to care for her. He ran his hand through his hair absently, getting gel on it. He rolled his eyes and vowed to stop using the stuff. . . .The next morning he confronted Karofsky while he was setting the tables for breakfast. Karofsky laughed when Blaine told him that he had to pay. "What, blow my whole summer's salary paying for a girl who's probably had every guy here? Why me, why not her little dancer boyfriend Kurt." Karofsky got a weird look on his face that Blaine couldn't identify."But you've got to, David, it's the right thing to do." He twisted the napkin in his hand anxiously."Look, Blaine. Some people count, and some people don't." He fished a beaten up paperback out of his pocket and handed it to Blaine. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. "Objectivism. I think this is a book you'll enjoy. But make sure you return it: I have notes in the margin."Blaine stepped up to Karofsky, ignoring the man's much larger mass. "You make me sick. Stay away from me, stay away from my sister. Or I'll have you fired." With a very sweet smile he dumped an entire pitcher of icewater down Karofsky's pants and stalked away. 


End file.
